


Say it Like You Mean it

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Captain-y cuddles because we all have needs, Crying Monto is everyone's worst nightmare, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shower Sex, Therapeutic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3317384">Silent Confessions</a>. Riccardo has trouble opening up. Gigi is there to make sure he will be fine when he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say it Like You Mean it

**Author's Note:**

> Milan drew yesterday, Monto gave a horror show of a performance, and to top it off he was subbed off at the half-time because of _another_ injury. Please excuse me for needing some therapy fluff after that…

Gigi drives all the way to Milan in the middle of the night just to be there when Riccardo returns from Verona.  
  
He has no idea what he is supposed to say – if he needs to say anything at all – but he knows even without telling that Riccardo needs him there, and that is all that matters.  
  
Riccardo appears remarkably put-together when he comes home, greeting Gigi with a tired smile, the pain in his thigh revealed only by his slight limp.  
  
His hair is still damp from the shower he must have taken before the departure. Gigi recognizes the scent of his usual shampoo when he pulls him into a hug and kisses the top of his head.  
  
They barely exchange a word before they retire to bed for the night, spooned in comfortable warmth – Riccardo’s double bed is much smaller than Gigi’s, but it makes no difference when they only take the space of one person on it.  
  
Gigi has a feeling everything is not right even before he drifts off to dreamlands.  
  
Gigi  _knows_  everything is not right when he wakes up alone a couple hours later, the sound of shower running sneaking through his slumber.  
  
Riccardo is sitting on the bottom of the shower cubicle, the warm water falling over him, steaming up the glass walls around him. He has his legs pulled up against his chest and his wet hair is falling over his eyes.  
  
“Hey, how are you?” Gigi asks quietly as he opens the glass door just enough to slip inside the cubicle, ignoring the water falling on him, soaking the boxers he is still wearing, “I missed you out there.”  
  
“I’m fine. Just go back to bed,” Riccardo mumbles, but everything around them is telling Gigi he is lying through his teeth. Riccardo swipes the hair off his face, revealing his red and puffy eyes as he looks up at Gigi. There would definitely be tears were it not for the water washing them away.  
  
“I never knew ‘fine’ could look so miserable,” Gigi counters softly. He crouches down in front of Riccardo and reaches out to stroke his face with the back of his hand, his fingers brushing over his cheekbone gently, “Don’t you  _‘fine’_  me, Riccardo. I know better than that.”  
  
Riccardo is biting the inside of his lower lip, sniffing quietly, and he looks like he wants to duck his head away to avoid Gigi’s searching gaze. Gigi holds the eye-contact firmly.  
  
“I let them down,” Riccardo finally whispers, his voice just barely audible over the sound of falling water, “Again and again and again. I failed their trust. I’m not fit to be their captain.”  
  
Gigi hushes him softly and brushes a chaste kiss on his lips to keep him from beating himself up any more than he already has. He shifts his weight and sits down next to Riccardo, slipping his hand from his face to rub the back of his neck.  
  
“Blaming yourself is only going to make it worse,” he says quietly, urging Riccardo to lean on his shoulder, kissing his temple, “You were injured. You  _are_  injured. All you can do now is to focus on getting better – the results will come with time, I promise you.”  
  
Gigi knows what unreasonable expectations can do to a player – especially when it is the player himself setting those expectations – and there is little he can do to make things better for Riccardo. But he will be damned if he does not even try.  
  
“It’s just a game – it doesn’t define who you are,” Gigi is talking right into Riccardo’s ear, his lips caressing the lobe with every word.  
  
It is what Gigi tells himself whenever he thinks he is getting too hung-up on his career, and he can tell it is what Riccardo needs to hear as well. He is not sure hearing it will make any difference for Riccardo right now, but it is important that he knows it.  
  
“I’ll be here no matter what,” he concludes, taking a hold of Riccardo’s chin and turning his face to the side so he can kiss him again. The water is running down their faces, mixing inside their mouths when their tongues meet in slow caress, the kiss deepening.  
  
Riccardo moans into the kiss, shifting closer and raising his arms to wrap them around Gigi’s neck. Their legs are entangled when they finally break the kiss.  
  
“I love you, Riccardo,” Gigi whispers against his lips, his voice filled with surprise at the realization – it is what he has felt all along, what made Riccardo so special long before they became involved – “Let me take care of you. It’s all I’m asking. Can you do that for me?”  
  
Riccardo only kisses him again – it is open-mouthed, their tongues meeting before their lips even press together – and moves into Gigi’s lap, straddling his thighs. His erection is pressed between their bellies.  
  
“Please?” Riccardo is mouthing against Gigi’s lips, repeating the word over and over again between the kisses, his lips trembling with suppressed sobs and breath staggering. Even the shower cannot hide the fact that he is still crying.  
  
“I love you,” Gigi repeats, like responding to the silent pleas. He presses his palm against Riccardo’s injured thigh, rubbing it firmly, making sure the position is not hurting Riccardo any further. His other hand slides down from Riccardo’s neck, tracing the bumps of his spine one by one.  
  
Riccardo bucks his hips against Gigi as their lips meet again, a muffled whimper pushing its way out of his throat and into the kiss. He is clinging to Gigi’s neck, neediness and vulnerability bleeding into his every action.  
  
Gigi lifts his hand to Riccardo’s mouth when they part the next time, ghosting his fingertips over his trembling lips, “Look at me, Riccardo. I’m not doing it unless I know you’re here with me.”  
  
Riccardo meets his eyes – there are drops of water clinging to his lashes – and kisses his fingertips gently, one by one, his tongue darting out to lick the forefinger slowly before he answers, “I’m here, Gigi.”  
  
Gigi’s boxers are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to his skin, but Gigi manages to pull the underwear just low enough to reveal his own erection. It takes a bit of shifting around before they can press their lengths together, but the intense sensation is enough to make up for it.  
  
Gigi takes them both into his hand, stroking them with firm jerks, allowing Riccardo to buck himself into his hand to create more friction between their cocks. Riccardo’s mouth has fallen open, sharp gasps reflecting the movements of Gigi’s hand, their eye-contact not breaking.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Gigi tells Riccardo with a breathy laugh before he leans in and catches Riccardo’s lips with his own, muffling the sounds that might be escaping his lips otherwise as he tightens his hold around their erections.  
  
He could swear he can taste Riccardo’s tears on his lips, even though the water should be washing them off as soon as they fall from his eyes.  
  
Riccardo whimpers against his lips after a while, pressing himself urgently against Gigi, bucking into his hand. He bites on Gigi’s lip sharply when he comes, his seed seeping over their cocks just as they break the kiss. Gigi can taste blood on his tongue.  
  
Riccardo’s moan turns into violent sobs as he comes down from his climax, his whole body shaking as he presses his face into the crook of Gigi’s neck.  
  
Gigi finishes himself off with a few more fast jerks, groaning his release into Riccardo’s hair. He does not waste time on the postcoital bliss, only wounds his arms around Riccardo’s waist and wraps him into a tight embrace, letting him cry it off.  
  
It takes a lot to break Riccardo down: the last time Gigi saw him crying was back when he had just broken his leg, and even then it was not like this.  
  
“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” Gigi whispers into Riccardo’s ear only when his sobs have completely subsided, kissing his cheek gently as he reaches up to turn off the shower, “I can stay up until you fall asleep, and you can wake me up anytime if you need me.”  
  
They use the same towel to dry themselves and Gigi hangs his underwear on the edge of the sink even though there is no chance they will be dry enough to wear by the morning.  
  
“Did you mean it?” Riccardo asks when they are back between the sheets, wrapped in a comfortable embrace, “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”  
  
“Have I ever lied to you?” Gigi returns the question with another, tightening his hold on Riccardo.  
  
“No, I guess not.”  
  
Riccardo falls asleep only moments later, his breathing slowing down and his soft snores muffled against Gigi’s chest.  
  
Gigi, on the other hand, lies awake for a long time, silently watching over the young man in his arms. He dozes off only when the first rays of sunlight start sneaking through the curtains.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I was supposed to write Pazzolivo. I failed. My apologies.  
> \- Juve is playing tomorrow so technically Gigi would've had time on Saturday night to drive to Milan and comfort his Monto.  
> \- Feedback would be much appreciated!


End file.
